


Oh You Poor Thing

by cablesscutie



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Caretaking, M/M, sick!Jack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 15:36:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10665648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cablesscutie/pseuds/cablesscutie
Summary: For the anonymous request: "Jack is wretchedly sick and Bitty is taking care of him. (Not hospital sick, but still total feverish misery.)"





	Oh You Poor Thing

Jack doesn’t really get sick. Years of spending hours a day in ice rinks have left him all but immune to the effects of the cold, he takes multivitamins religiously, eats well, sleeps consistently, and keeps up with his doctor’s appointments. He’s the picture of physical health, and he’s gotten quite used to it. 

Jack doesn’t really get sick. 

But when he _does_ , he gets _really_ sick.

Like, truly, pathetically, bed-ridden sick. In fact, the incident that cemented his friendship with Lardo came when they were the only two crashing at the Haus for spring break Sophomore year, and he came down with a late flu so badly that he couldn’t keep himself steady on his feet. For the worst couple days of it, he was so weak she had to help him to the bathroom to pee. They never spoke of it to the guys, but by the time everyone came back, they were ride or die.

And Jack hadn’t been sick again before graduation. As he kicked into high gear preparing himself to enter the NHL, he was even more obsessively healthy, and with Bitty holding the Haus to a higher standard of cleanliness, there were fewer germs flying around than ever before. The only thing that could’ve sabotaged him was the “awful green couch that probably had smallpox in it, good lord”, but even that, he’d built up an immunity to. But being in a totally new city, in a new apartment, and surrounded by all new people - some of which had very tiny children - was enough to do him in. And when Providence flu season rolled around, there was no vaccine or vitamin supplement that could save him.

It came on quick, as these things do. One day, he was a little sniffly, but paid no attention to it. Bitty was coming down to visit after his finals, and Jack couldn’t wait to see him after weeks and weeks apart. Because as lovely as it was to be able to call him on the phone or see his face over Skype, now that he knew how it felt to fall asleep with Bitty snuggled up close, warm and soft in his arms, it was so hard to force himself back to settling for a smile on a screen. He had made plans for them all night, starting with dinner down by the waterfront at a place Tater had shown him a few weeks ago, and followed by a walk around town to the bakery he passed every day on his run that always made him think of Bitty. After that, they’d bring pastry home and eat it - he had visions of them feeding each other bites of tarts and cake, curled close on the couch - and then...well. It had been a while. Nobody could really blame him for his imagination running a little wild.

When Bitty hopped into the passenger seat outside the Commuter Rail station, he was beaming, and immediately leaned over the console to kiss Jack’s cheek. 

“Hi honey,” he said, cheery and bright, and Jack felt warm. So warm.

“Hey Bits. I missed you.” 

“I missed you too.” Bitty took his hand. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. Why?”

“Oh nothing, just you sound a little stuffed up.” Jack shrugged and pulled away from the curb, heading home.

“It’s probably just from being in the rink. How’re you?” 

“Oh. _Well…_ ” Bitty launched into a long, complicated story about his cousins on his father’s side and the drama surrounding one of the girl cousins’ wedding planning, all of which culminated in her planner quitting in a huff. “...and _then_ , this girl decides to call _me._ Of all people, and I said, ‘Clarissa, why on Earth did you think I’d be of _any_ use here? I live in a damn frat house.’ and _she_ has the gall to say, ‘I thought, well... _you know_...that you’d be good at this.’ Can you believe that?”

Jack gave a grunt that he hoped was appropriately outraged, but couldn’t really coalesce his thoughts well enough to really respond. He wanted to pay attention - usually he had no trouble paying attention because his boyfriend was captivating. He loved how Bitty told a story, the clever ways he used words. But everything was just a little foggy and overheated. It didn’t seem like Bitty noticed though, and he kept chattering away until they were back at the apartment.

It hit Jack what was wrong the moment Bitty got him up against the front door, their mouths sliding together. As soon as Jack’s eyes closed, he could feel the watery stinging sensation that came with fever. He wanted so badly to keep kissing Bitty, but he couldn’t knowingly infect his own boyfriend, so he pulled back, pressing their foreheads together. Bitty whined in protest, and tried to tug him back in, but Jack shook his head.

“No, Bits. I think I’m sick. I shouldn’t kiss you.” And oh god, how did he not hear it in his voice earlier? He’s doomed. “Yeah no. I’m definitely really sick.”

“Oh baby.” Bitty made a sad face up at him, and then there were cool calloused fingers brushing his bangs off his forehead and feeling for a temperature. “Hmm. You do feel a little warm, but not too bad. I’ll make soup for dinner though. Moomaw’s chicken noodle can cure anything.” Jack smiled and sniffled.

“Thanks. You’re the best, you know?” Bitty patted his chest.

“Oh, I know,” he said, and turned away to focus on the kitchen. Jack settled himself at one of the barstools to watch as Bitty got a pot of broth simmering and cut up some leftover chicken. He lost himself in the rhythmic sound of carrots being chopped and the ups and downs of Bitty’s voice as he chattered on about the guys back at the Haus. 

The scent of the soup cooking couldn’t fully make it past Jack’s now definitely clogged sinuses, and he wasn’t particularly hungry, but when a steaming bowl was nudged in front of him, he obediently picked up his spoon and tucked in. As he ate, Bitty rubbed gentle circles on his back, and Jack tried not to flinch away. He was starting to feel chills creeping into his bones under the fever flush, and the pressure on his skin felt achy. Just the weight of his shirt shifting felt like it was scraping him raw. Finally, he put his head down on the counter, finished with at least most of the soup, and groaned, “Even my _skin_ hurts, this is awful.” Bitty’s hands pulled back, and Jack grumbled at the sting that seeped in where his boyfriend’s fingers used to be. 

“You poor thing,” Bitty sighed. He took Jack’s hand and guided him off the barstool, through the bedroom, and into their bathroom. “You’ll feel better after a hot shower. Go steam open your sinuses, get warm, okay?” Jack nodded, and allowed himself to be nudged along until he stepped under the spray. Bitty left the door open behind him, and Jack could hear the closet door opening and closing, the rustling of bedding, and then Bitty rummaging in the dresser for pajamas. Breathing in the steam did help unclog his nose, even if he could feel it dripping down his face, and the stream of water felt harsh where it hit between his shoulder blades, but it seemed to be rinsing the rest of the discomfort off of him. 

When he turned off the water and stepped out, Bitty was there to meet him, and wrapped Jack up in one of the guest towels because they’re so much fluffier than the ones he picked for himself. Bitty gently patted him dry and guided him to the bed, where he’d laid out pajamas for Jack - thin flannel pants and a worn Habs t-shirt that used to belong to Bob. Jack got dressed, only speaking to murmur “Thanks,” as he tugged the shirt down. 

“Of course, sweetpea. I’ve got your back.” When he slid under the covers, Jack found that Bitty had changed the sheets too, finding the soft thin ones Jack usually saved for summer. He sighed at the gentle slide of them against his achy body. Bitty climbed in on his side.

“You don’t have to stay in here with me,” Jack said. “You can sleep in the guest room if you want, I don’t want you to get sick.” Bitty shook his head.

“I got my flu shot, I’ll be fine. In any case, I’m not leaving you in here to be miserable all by yourself. So get used to it, mister.” Jack smiled, and Bitty scooched closer until he could tuck his hands up the back of Jack’s t-shirt and gently work at the knots along his spine. Jack drifted off to sleep knowing that he was going to feel like absolute garbage in the morning, but knowing that Bitty would be there to take care of him.

**Author's Note:**

> If you have prompts or headcannons to submit, the askbox is open over at imaginezimbits.tumblr.com/ask, or come visit me on my main as latticeontop!


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